Forty Days of Musa Dagh

Free Forty Days of Musa Dagh by Franz Werfel

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Authors: Franz Werfel
to receive her new fellow-countrymen.

So far, on such occasions, she had always dressed very simply, since it

had seemed to her both undignified and superfluous to attempt to dazzle

"ignorant half-savages." But even the last time she had noticed how the

magic she could shed upon her guests was reflected back upon herself. So

that today she had yielded to temptation and chosen her most elaborate

evening frock. ("Oh, well," she had thought as she examined it, "it dates

from last spring, and at home I shouldn't dare show my nose in it.") After

some hesitation, since the frock itself was so resplendent, she had also

decided to wear jewefry. The effect of this deliberate decision, of which

she had at first been rather ashamed, surprised even her. It is pleasant

enough to be a beautiful woman among many, but the feeling soon wears

off. In lighted restaurants one is only a pretty member of a beauty

chorus. But to be the unique, the yellow-haired châtelaine, among all

these dark, glittering-eyed Armenians -- that surely was no everyday

fate! It was an experience, bringing back the flush of youth, a glow to

the lips, a light of triumph to the eyes.
     
     
Gabriel found his wife surrounded by humble, dazzled admirers. When

Juliette moved, he recognized again her "sparkling step," as he once

had called it. Juliette, here in Yoghonoluk, seemed to have found her

way into the hearts of his simple-minded compatriots, though in Europe

she had often jibbed at the society of the most cultivated Armenians.

And strangest of all . . . In Beirut, overtaken by the war, without

any chance to get back home, Gabriel had been haunted by the fear

that Juliette would be devoured with homesickness. France was fighting

the worst battles in her history. European newspapers seldom reached

that corner of the world. One was entirely cut off, could find out

nothing. Till now only one letter, dated November, had reached them,

by many long detours. From Juliette's mother. Lucky that at least she

had no brothers. Her marriage with a foreigner had estranged her a little

from her family. Be that as it might, her present tranquil frivolity had

come as a great surprise to Gabriel. She seldom seemed to think about

home. In this fourteenth year of their married life the unhoped-for

seemed to have taken place.
     
     
And indeed there was something essentially new in her, as she put her arms

round his neck. "At last, mon ami, I was just beginning to be anxious."
     
     
She began to be concerned with his hunger and thirst, almost to the point

of exaggeration. But Gabriel had no time to eat. He was surrounded.

Naturally that morning's official inspection had not passed without

leaving some trace on people's minds. The very fact that the Turkish

authorities should have chosen a Sunday -- the hour of high mass --

for their visit, might itself be considered a hostile sign. An omen of

intricate hostility.
     
     
But the Musa Dagh colony had been almost spared in the bloody events of

1896 and 1909. Yet such men as Kebussyan and the little pastor of Bitias

were sharp-eared enough to become alert at the slightest suspicious rustling.

Only this evening-party and Juliette's radiant presence had been enough to

distract them from such troubling of their peace. Now, as, remembering his

promise, Gabriel repeated the müdir's words -- that this was no more

than a general wartime measure -- they all, Kebussyan, Nokhudian,

the schoolmasters, had of course long since answered the riddle themselves.

They became light-heartedly optimistic. The most hopeful of all was

Shatakhian. He drew himself up to his full height. The Middle Ages were

over, he opined, addressing his glowing words to Madame Bagradian.

The sun of progress would rise, even over Turkey. This war was its crimson

dawn. The Turkish government was under the surveillance of its allies.

Shatakhian glanced expectantly at Juliette. Had he not acclaimed progress

in faultless

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